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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
Shelf. a_M-42 



UNITED STATER OF AMERICA. 






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BREATH 



OF 



THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



BY 



LOUISA PARSONS HOPKINS, 

AUTHOR OF "MOTHERHOOD." 



OS U)a 



BOSTON: 
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 

NEW YORK : CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 
l88l. 









Copyright, 1881, 
By Louisa Parsons Hopkins. 



University Press : 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



PREFACE. 



This volume, which makes but a very modest 
claim in the world of poetry, is put forth primarily 
at the request of many who have read or listened to 
its contents, especially a few of the longer poems 
recited on Alumni occasions at the Framingham 
State Normal School. The other verses are a frag- 
ment of the incidental indulgence of a life devoted 
to more pressing work, and were written only in obe- 
dience to that instinct for expression which indicates 
the mission of the poet, however limited in gift or 
development. 

This mission I am not satisfied, as I look down 
the slope of life, to leave altogether unfulfilled or 
unrecorded, although its record falls far short of my 
early hope • but as the flower of the grass does not 



IV PREFACE. 

refuse its measure of beauty and sweetness to the 

wayfarer, so I give these verses to the casual reader, 

hoping they may bear some perfume from the fields 

of Nature, and breathe in some degree its restful 

inspiration. 

L. P. H. 



CONTENTS. 



\ 

PAGE 

Preface iii 

Nonquitt 7 

Tempestuous Deeps 12 

The Coruscating Sea 14 

The Tender Love of God 16 

The Secret of the Night 18 

The Hereafter 20 

The Salt-Marshes 22 

Easter Songs 27 

The World's Lullaby 30 

Epklea 33 

Sanguinaria 35 

Apple-Blossoms 37 

Morning-Glories 39 

Easter Lilies 41 

The Lily of the Valley 43 



vi CONTENTS. 

Nasturtiums 45 

Barberries 47 

In the Fernery 49 

"Tell them, daisies" 52 

Compensation 53 

Teachers of Old 54 

In the Beginning ... 60 

The Building of the Tabernacle 64 

Pshanshaw 77 

The Evening Star 90 

A Twilight Fantasy 92 

December . . . . 94 

The Lesson of the Rain 96 

Christmas Week 98 

The Christmas Snow 100 

Witness of the Spirit 102 

Forget-me-nots 105 

Alumni Poem 112 

PHONE ; or, The Spirit of Nature and 

Life 125 



BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



NONQUITT. 

Summer has flashed her golden shuttle by 

My dreaming eye ; 
Its shining web of days so soft and fair, 

Without a care, 
Is folding down into the silent past, 

Too bright to last. 

Night unto night has told its peace serene, 
While Luna, queen, 



BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Paved her white, shimmering path above the deep, 

That stirred in sleep 
To lisp its dreamy bliss around the shore 

Forevermore. 

Day unto day ushered its beauty in 

With happy din, 
Thrush and song-sparrow trilling through the hours, 

While myriad flowers 
Bespangled dewy grass and fragrant wood, 

And all was good. 

The odorous breeze wafted its music round, — 

A varied sound. 
Called from the wide campaign the whistling quail, 

The tern's shrill wail 



NONQUITT. 

Answered afar, and boomed from rock to rock 
The billows' shock. 

Here have I sat without my cottage-door 

And watched the shore, 
Followed its curving line to where the town 

Lies sloping down, 
Its clustering gems in simple beauty set, — 

Fair coronet ! 

And still along its amber thread of strand 

Stretches the land, 
Till the grim fortress at the harbor's mouth 

Looks threatening, south, 
But hears no sound save dash of spray that wet 

Its parapet. 



10 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Then on and on the rippling waters spread 

By cliff and head, 
By long, low neck, and sunny-sanded isles, 

The blue bay smiles, 
Till, like a soul within the conscious seas, 

Sits Penekese. 

And to and fro the opal sails have sped, 

Or glimmered red 
The seven coast-lights about the landlocked bay, 

While night and day 
The broad blue sky with sun or star has lit 

Light-bathed Nonquitt. 

But now the slopes are shadowing with wings, 
And southward swings 



NONQUITT. II 

The clamoring host of swallows o'er the sea; 

Tis time for me 
To seek my closer eaves, and, sighing, fold 

This cloth of gold. 



12 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



TEMPESTUOUS DEEPS. 

Passionate, stormy ocean, 

Spreading thine arms to me, 
The depths of my soul's emotion 

Surge with the surging sea: 
Waves and billows go o'er me, 

Give me thy strong right hand ! 
The throes of my heart's vain struggle 

I know thou wilt understand. 

Break with thy hidden anguish, 
Restless and yearning main ! 

Echo my sighs; I languish, 
Moaning in secret pain. 



TEMPESTUOUS DEEPS. 13 

The heart I had trusted fails me, 
The hopes I would rest in flee ; 

Woe upon woe assails me, 
Comfort me, answering sea ! 

Mightily tossed with tempest, 

Lashed into serried crest, 
Roaring and seething billows 

Give thee nor peace nor rest : 
O, to thy heaving bosom 

Take me, wild sobbing sea ! 
For the whole earth's groaning and travail 

Utters itself in thee. 



14 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE CORUSCATING SEA. 

I left my cares behind me, 
I left them all with glee, 

When flashed beyond the cedars 
The coruscating sea. 

Beyond the sombre cedars, 

Beneath an azure sky, 
The white caps dash and sparkle, 

The white gulls dip and fly. 

The snowy spray is wafted 
Like pennons on the breeze, 

The glowing rocks begemming 
The blue and bossy seas. 



THE CORUSCATING SEA. 15 

My cares I leave behind me, 
My glad heart springs to song, 

With blithe steps bounding lightly 
I dance the sands along. 

I greet the joyous ocean ! 

I greet the ecstatic day ! — 
The day when by the billows 

I flung my care away. 



1 6 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE TENDER LOVE GF GOD. 

HAMPTON BEACH. 

In every line of breaking beauty seen, 
In every foamy crest or concave green, 
O'er blue expanse, where sky and ocean meet, 
The tender love of God is brooding sweet. 

Written in wavy tracery on the sand, 
Spoke by the echoing rocks' encircling band, 
Breathed in the pure and healing winds that fly, 
The tender love of God is hovering nigh. 

Painted on every fair and pearly cloud, 
Sung by the sea's grand monotone aloud, 



THE TENDER LOVE OF GOD. 17 

Whispered within each convoluted shell, 
The tender love of God so close doth dwell. 

In quickened pulse by his own finger stirred, 
In grateful heart responsive to his word, 
In burning soul that worships at his feet, 
The tender love of God abides most sweet. 



1 8 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT. 

The night is full of meaning; whispers run 

From either firmament; the mystic sea 

Responds along her borders audibly; 

The sibyl moon her vigil has begun, 

And thrills the wave with weird illumining. 

Full well she knows the secret of the air, 

Forbidding all the billows to declare 

Its deep intent, and when they, longing, spring 

For sympathy to the confiding shore, 

She strikes them with her wand, and naught is heard 

But broken sobs and vague, unuttercd word, 

Mocking the yearning heart forevcrmore. 



THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT. 19 

But round the sea's gray arc, o'er yon dark rim 
The message is borne onward; in the deeps 
Its purpose understood; the wonder creeps 
Silent along the path where moonbeams swim, 
Then 'cross the reach of outer shade it rolls 
To leave its burden at magnetic poles. 



20 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE HEREAFTER. 

wide blue arc of sea, 
What wondrous mystery- 
Flees over thy thin edge? 
To it my faith I pledge ! 

1 know not how nor when 
Its measure I shall ken, 
What secret waits revealing, 
W 7 hat treasure Death 's unsealing j 
But that horizon's rim 

Shall not be always dim ; 
Sometime my heavenly eyes 
Shall look without surprise 



THE HEREAFTER. 21 

Beyond its mystic verge, 

And Paradise emerge, 

With its fair, beckoning shore, 

Safe from the tempest-roar. 

Then all shall be made known, 

And what is dark be shown, — 

All longing satisfied; 

And ways that we have tried, 

Tempt and delude no more, 

On that far, unseen shore. 



22 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE SALT-MARSHES. 

There 's a wondrous wide level of beauty, the Oldtown 

salt-marshes, — 
Hemisphere of lush green with its conical islands of 

russet, 
Perch of the windy snipe or throne of the eagle, 
Graced by the gulls ; their summits diverging, retreating, 
Dwindle to dots of gold where they fleck the horizon. 
The green, green intervals stretching so fresh and so 

quiet, 
Wet with the lapsing tide and meandering river, 
Spread in alluring repose, now concealed, now dis- 
covered, — 



THE SALT-MARSHES. 23 

Limitless peace, earth's response to the blessing of 

heaven ; 
Reaching afar they decoy the thought beyond vision, 
Luring the fancy to fly as birds hither and thither, 
Circling and winding to follow the wandering river, 
Hieing to cover and shadow, then forth to the sunlit 
Infinite opening, to take the wings of the morning 
And speed to the uttermost sea beckoning there with 

white fingers. 

There 's a way that the foot can tread over rocks gray 

and mossy, 
Through woods of the balmy pine and vine-netted 

bushes ; 
There have I walked with another; our young hearts, 

expanding, 



24 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Grew with the growing beauty, and were not astonished. 

Discerning the secrets which Nature reserves for her 
children, 

We saw, as the poet, clouds floating beneath the dark 
pine-trees, — 

Tenderest cloudlings tethered like flocks to their 
bushes, — 

Impalpable mist of color from shrubs newly bud- 
ding, — 

Amber the willows, rosy the oaks and the maples. 

To us they appeared the pillar of cloud of God's 
presence, 

Mystical symbol, the cloud of expressed resurrection. 

There have we walked through glory of crimsoning 
sumach, 

Purple of ciders, the prodigal hues of the maples, 



THE SALT-MARSHES. 25 

Radiant golden-rod, dazzle of starry aster, 
To the dull marsh-gold shot through with the blue 
threading river. 

But O the way of the tide ! with white wings to follow 
The wake of the gulls among the dissolving islets, 
To drift with the tortuous current through emerald waters, 
To cruise into crystal shallows with shifting rudder, 
Glide into the dream within dream, the maze of the 

meadows ; 
The gracious skies deepening above us and breathing 

around us, 
Our hearts throb with joy, with the fulness of life all 

our pulses ; 
To the close brooding Spirit our souls, palpitating re- 
sponsive, 



26 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Plume their wings and soar away to the Source and 

the Fountain. 
Our ghosted souls aswing from the body's moorings, 
Mated and plumed and poised in infinite spaces, 
Rising on buoyant wings of divine aspiration, 
Are one with the heart of Nature, the worship of earth 

and of heaven. 



EASTER SONGS. 27 



EASTER SONGS. 

The song of the sap 

From its mother's lap 
Springing to welcome the Easter Day ! 

The song of the wood 

That groweth good 
With the sap that riseth and will not stay. 

Clear harmonies 

Of the fluted trees, 
The organ-pipes of the bird and bee, 

The voice that wells 

From the leaflet-cells, — 
A hidden murmur of melody ! 



BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE, 

The opening sheath 

Of the willow's wreath; 
Chorus of birds, high carolling; 

The cymballed psalm 

Of the air's soft palm 
Closing after the cleaving wing; 

The patter of showers, 

The waving flowers, 
The symphony of the south-wind free ; 

The vibrant harp 

Of the ice-clad scarp, 
Struck to the chord of the sounding sea; 

The whir of wings, 
The bubbling springs, 
The bursting ice and the melting snow ; 



EASTER SONGS. 29 

The rapid's roar 
And the rippling shore, 
The unchained brooks and the rivers' flow; 

The nestling broods, 

The interludes 
Of chirp and trill, of coo and call, — 

The loosening hold 

Of the leaf-bud's fold, 
And the resurrection of each and all ! 

Let the paean rise 

In the eastern skies, 
While planets sing on their mystic ways; 

With heart and voice 

Earth and heaven rejoice, 
And the song of life be a song of praise ! 



30 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE WORLD'S LULLABY. 

Behold the soft- swathed earth 

Cradled in balmy air, 
Since its glad hour of birth 

Rocked like a child most fair; 
Girdled with downy bands, 
Clothed in the beauteous lands, 
In swaddling seas at rest 
Like sleeping babe upon its mother's breast ! 

In tender ether wrapped, 

It swingeth to and fro, 
While in bright outline mapped 

The swift, fresh breezes blow ; 



THE WORLD'S LULLABY. 31 

And round it strons: winged birds, 



Or singers of sweet words, 
Through gales of perfume fly, 
Chanting unceasing songs of lullaby. 

Fairly arrayed it lies, — 

Peak upon peak of snow 
Piercing the outer skies, — 

The pearly seas below ; 
Green plains in beauty spread, 
'Broidered with silver thread; 
The river-feeding rills 
Glancing among the velvet-verdured hills ! 

The silver-horne'd moon 

Leans o'er the babe asleep ; 



32 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

The burning sun of noon 

Stretches its torrid sweep; 
The belting zodiac 
Spreads wide its starry track; 
Ranks of celestial guard 

Through the close clustering worlds keep watch 
and ward. 

Float on, calm babe asleep, 

In hollow of God's hand ! 
He holds the oceans deep, 

He weighs the mighty land; 
Inspired by his breath, 
Life shall be thine, not death ; 
So down thy cycles swing, 
To grow unto the stature of a king. 



EPIGsEA. 33 



EPIG^EA. 

Out of the woods' dim sepulchre, 
Fresh from the shrouding leaves, 

Bloom the flowers for Easter-morning, 
And my heart their pledge receives, 

Of the Lord of the Resurrection, 
Who death and loss retrieves. 

Sweet to my sense their presence, 
Lovely their soft, pink flush ! 

As the day-spring lights the heavens 
In the Easter-morning's hush, 

So the message of life perfumes them 

And kindles their tender blush. 
3 



34 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

" See ! Life from death awaketh ! " 
The mould-sprung blossoms say; 

"Angels from sealed sepulchre 
Have rolled the stone away; 

Christ is risen, and through the shadow 
Streams the eternal day ! " 



SANGUINARIA. 35 



SANGUINARIA. 

Soul-flower, so pure and white, — 

A star of chrysolite ! 

Thy central flecks of gold 

Such dainty care do hold 

Not to emboss the petals chaste and fair, 

Nor drop one wanton mote of pollen there ! 

The sheltered, modest stem 

Kissing thy blossom's hem, 

Swaying with slender grace, 

Wrapped in the leaf's embrace, 

The brown-ribbed leaf, hued like the olive-tree, 

Conserving all the dews of heaven for thee ; — 



36 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Christ's love — thy bleeding root 

The symbol well may suit ! 

From it the soul shall spring, 

Dressed in white blossoming, 

While round her growth the sheltering church doth fold, 

And o'er her bloom droops Heaven's crown of gold. 



APPLE-BL OSSOMS. 3 7 



APPLE-BLOSSOMS. 

Storm-twisted, gnarled bough, 
Bloom forth in beauty now, 

Spring breezes woo thee ! 
Hush the wind's blustering, 
Wear thy fresh clustering 
Blossoms, close mustering, 

Hastening to thee ! 

Leaf, bud, corolla fair, 
Spread in ambrosial air, 
Bossy branch cover ; 



38 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

In pink and white array, 
Decked for thy bridal day, 
Reaching forth graciously, 
Welcome thy lover ! 



MORNING-GLORIES. 39 



MORNING-GLORIES. 

Delicate vases of fairest hue, 
Daintily set for the early dew, 
That the dying stars their grace may view; 

Pink of the conch-shell, blue of the sea, 
Tyrian purple with pearl flecked free, 
Tint their Etruscan symmetry. 

Hebe might covet the sheeny cup 

On its heart-shaped salver offered up, 

Where the queenly mornings their nectar sup. 



40 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

0, prodigal beauty for opening eyes ! 
The tendrilled vine with its grand surprise 
Of bloom upturned to the dawn-flushed skies ! 



EASTER LILIES. 41 



EASTER LILIES. 

The pure and holy lilies 
Attend their Lord alway; 

The Easter-lilies praise him, 
They " of the valley " pray. 

Red-lilies speak his passion, 
Field-lilies breathe his love, 

And Water-lilies image 

His peace in heaven above. 

Weave in the glorious blossoms 
To deck the Easter tide, 



42 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

An offering fit and spotless, 
By Jesus sanctified ! 

And when in bliss we see him, — 
The gates of life thrown wide, — 

The Angel of the Lily 
Shall lead us to his side. 



THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 43 



THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 

In its mossy bed, 

See ! the lily's head 
Is drooping low in its sweet, sad grief; 

So my soul is bowed 

With a love I vowed 
To a heart dead to me as the withered leaf. 

The lily is white 

From the sorrow-spent night, 
Though it felt the soft breath of the south-wind warm j 

So I wake more pale 

When the night's dim veil 
Is snatched from my dreams of a vanished form. 



44 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

But the lily fair 

Sheds its sweetness rare 
Through the grateful valley, o'er its mossy bed ; 

While this tearful vale 

Of the life I bewail 
Is sadder yet for my bowed head. 

fragrant flower ! 

1 will bless the hour 

Which thy modest life has perfumed for me ; 

And the valley I tread 

Shall have sweetness shed 
O'er its lonely path when I think of thee. 



NASTURTIUMS. 45 



NASTURTIUMS. 

Bright flowers, still loyal to the summer's heart, — 
Flag of her blazonry on death-strewn field, — 

Hold high aloft your banners, act your part, 
And, like the patriot-martyr, never yield, 
But clasp, undaunted, your firm radiate shield ; 
Sword from your golden scabbard proudly wield ! 

I know ye, glorious flowers incarnadine ! 

Your twining stems have grappled round my life ; 

For o'er twin patriot graves your blossoms lean, 
And on white stones are cut with sculptor's knife, 
Symbol of blood shed in a country's strife, — 
With sacred love and holv memories rife ! 



46 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

I breathe your pungent perfume wafted near, 
Your aromatic fragrance I inspire ; 

Type of how costly sacrifice ! the tear 

Of deep affection springs ; my strong desire 
Calls back those fresh, young faces, souls of fire, - 
My brothers ! — offered on fair Freedom's pyre. 

Bloom till ye fall like heroes at the front; 
With gold and crimson colors lead the fight ; 

How well your green escutcheon bears the brunt ! 
Your flaming rays still challenge winter's night, 
Guerdon that brave souls shall not suffer blight, 
But " precious shall their blood be in his sight " ! 



BARBERRIES. 47 



BARBERRIES. 

To the sunny autumn fields 
Let us stray, 
In the glory of an Indian-summer day ; 

Through the singing, grass-hid broods, 

To the sedgy quiet woods, 
From the busy city's hum far away ! 

In the myriad leafless stems 
We may see 
Blazing banners of the fruit on bush and tree ; 

Barberry sprays like pendent gems, 

Where their ruby diadems 
Crown with triumph Nature's bright euthanasy ! 



48 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Each fair drop translucent gleams 
In the light, 
Iridescent, coruscating like a sprite; 
All in gay prismatic beams, 
Till its burning shimmer seems 



The last flush of summer's soul before its flight. 



IN THE FERNERY. 49 



IN THE FERNERY. 

Wondering, I sit and see 
Types of clear symmetry, 
Model of leaf and tree, 
Grow in my fernery. 

Delicate tracery 
Outlined so fine and free, 
Pencilled and etched for me, 
Gracefully, airily. 

Rising like verdurous dream, 

Emerald spires they seem, 
4 



50 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Piercing light's golden beam, — 
Minaret's crescent gleam ! 

Gossamer web of green, 
Fine ebon curves between, 
Feathers of grace that lean, 
Plumes for Palmyra's queen. 

Exquisite fronds entwine 
Beauty's acanthus line 
Chiselled in serpentine, 
Nature's own seal and sign. 

Shaft and volute and scroll, 
Stem and leaf-bud enroll, 
Archetypes finished, whole, 
Fair as fair sculpture's soul. 



IN THE FERNERY. 51 

Each line a groove of thought 
Where divine skill has wrought, 
Marvels of beauty brought 
From Empyrean court. 

How complete ! how refined 
Nature's casts ! form and mind 
In their true parts combined, 
Clearly by God outlined. 

No hasty work is done, 
Perfect the mould is run, 
Nicely the web is spun, 
Surely the victory won. 



52 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



"TELL THEM, D AISLES." 

Tell them, daisies, tell them sweetly 

All I fain would say; 
Let your white stars say it meetly 

Through the soft fern-spray. 
With a love-look, full, complete, 
Speak it, pure-lipped Marguerite ; 
In a heart-throb, perfume-set, 



Breathe it, mignonette ! 



COMPENSATION. 53 



CO MP ENS A TION. 



Does the snow gently fall? 
How quick the sunlight sparkles through the air, 

And gladly over all 
The smile of heaven plays beautiful and fair. 

Does the rain come in showers? 
Listen ! for soon the thankful earth will sing, 

And through the happy flowers 
Will run the thrill of the bird's dripping wing. 

Fades the rich crimson west 
Into night's stillness? See how close and bright 

The heavens with stars are drest, 
And day transfigured in celestial night ! 



54 BREATH OF THE FT ELD AND SHORE. 



TEACHERS OF OLD. 

So far away 
That dim, historic time, 
When in their mighty prime 
Egypt, Chaldea, Assyria's kingdoms lay 

Colossal and sublime, 
Wielding majestic sway 
Over the fertile valley of the Nile, 
Beneath the shadow of the sculptured pile, 
Or where the Tigris and Euphrates stray 
Over their marshy beds whose shores beguile 
The wayward currents through their reeds to play, 
Those century-sounding chords which sing their glorious 
day. 



TEACHERS OF OLD. 55 

Yet clear, through ages dim, 
Sounds the inspiring hymn, — 
Call of the teachers of man. 
From generations far 
They have marshalled the holy war, 
They have marched in the van, 
Crying, " Forward ! shout reveille ! 
Lead on from night to day, 
From the false to the true, 
From the chrysalis of the old to the winged hope of 
the new ! " 

See, in the far-off ages, 
From Ur of the Chaldees, 
Rideth a white-robed Sheik, 
Spear poised and quick to strike 



56 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

For the one God whose call 
He followed, not knowing at all 

Whither he went; 

With folded tent, 
The slow-paced caravan 
In the shadow of this man 
Stretched over the star-lit plain, 
Winding to narrow main, 
To the Nile's grain-fringed coasts, 
Obeying the God of Hosts 
By his servant Abraham, — 
The world's bright oriflamme ! 
The eternal letters of the skies 
Were clear to this man's eyes, 
Lesson that faith could understand, 
Watching the pointing of God's hand. 



TEACHERS OF OLD. 5 7 

With the spirit to learn that made him grand, 

Made him a teacher and a seer. 

So through all history doth appear 

He who can listen and learn so well 

That he needs must tell 

What God tells him, and accept his mission 

Obedient unto the heavenly vision ; — 

The called of God to go 

Before the hosts and show 

The way to the Promised Land, 

To repeat the divine command 

From division to division. 

So listened Moses to the call, 
Feasting in Rameses' hall, 
Leaving the sweets of earthly bliss 



58 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

And the glory of Heliopolis, — 

Leaving forever his princely youth 

To seek the pure, eternal truth. 

Listening again and again 

From the tower of flocks on Midian's plain, 

Till the burning bush, in tongue of flame, 

Pronounced the all- inspiring name; 

A commission to him who heard 

To interpret that radiant word 

To the nations enslaved, who wait, 

Crushed and disconsolate, 

Amid oppressor's rule, 

For the leader and teacher to guide them 

Into the desert school. 

With primer of wonders and sign, 

With precept and line upon line, 



TEACHERS OF OLD. 59 

And the lesson on tables of stone 
That God was God alone, — 
They learned from mountain-pages 
The mighty truths of the ages ; 
And the face of Moses shone 
With a glory not his own, 
Till the holy task was done, — 
Great teacher and leader in one. 



6o BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



IN THE BEGINNING. 

What force in creation's dower 

To lay its foundations, whether 

Bastions of logic tower 

Bolting its walls together, 

Or bands of colossal power 

Are stretched for a planet's tether ! 

Atom to atom clinging, 

Planet to planet swinging, 

Outer darkness alluring, 

Suns centripetal pouring 

Light through elastic ether, 

Firmament upper and nether ! 



IN THE BEGINNING. 6 1 

Magnetic poles are burning, 
Electric wheels are turning, 
Spinning adamant cables 
Stranger than myths or fables ; 
Swifter than weaver's shuttle 
Crossing the threads so subtle, 
Meshing the infinite spaces 
With fine, intangible traces, — 
Ah ! what strength and skill 
Fashions the worlds at will. 
Gases seething and tossing, 
Condensing, burning, embossing 
Heaven with its globes of fire 
To shine, decay, expire ! 

With many lightnings and thunders 
Evolving God's plan of wonders ; 



62 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

With unseen and unheard forces 

The stars are set in their courses ; 

The world swings true to her motions, 

With balanced lands and oceans. 

She had shot off a lamp for her night 

With phases of silver light; 

The palpitating air 

Softened her outline fair; 

To everything that lives 

Some share of thought she gives ; 

But man, earth's parasite, 

Is Nature's high delight. 

He, creature of an hour, 
Beggars all else in power. 
Behold him king ! invested 
With might from all things wrested : 






IN THE BEGINNING. 6$ 

All forces he shall tame, 
And call the stars by name. 
To him she will delegate 
The right of her high estate, — 
Her dear prerogative, 
To him she deigns to give; 
Of choosing a life to live, — 
Of infinite, far progression, 
In endless resurrection. 



64 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 

Word came to the people of God in the great con- 
gregation, 
" Take from among you an offering, bring an oblation ; 
Offering of silver and gold, of purple and spices, 
Stones to be set, and onyx for holy devices, 
Skins of the chamois and ibex, and brass for the laver, 
Shittim-wood dyed, and acacia-wood for the carver; 
Whosoever is willing, the rich or the lowly, 
Let him bring forth out of his treasure for service most 

holy." 
So they came, — every man with a heart of wisdom 
within him 



THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 65 

Brought silver and brass and gold, fine purple and linen ; 

With bracelets and amulets came all the women wise- 
hearted, 

Or spun the red wool and silk from the cocoon parted. 

For the work of the tabernacle and service of altar 

Their hearts did not fail them in giving, their hands 
did not falter. 

More than enough for the service they brought unto 
Moses, 

Till he answered, " Restrain ye ; sufficient the tent-cloth 
encloses." 

Then Miriam spoke for the women, her brow all aflame 

With the passion that burst from her soul, and tumul- 
tuous came 

To her lips silver-portal, in speech like a quivering fire, 

Up-surging and soaring in voice of celestial desire : 

5 



66 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

"Thou hast called us, my brother, to bring as a gift 

for the Lord 
Our choicest and rarest of treasures, most precious of 

hoard ; 
All the jewels we brought from the Nile-land, the 

bracelets we wore 
In the court of the Pharaohs' daughters, our garments 

of yore, 
Precious heirlooms embroidered with emeralds and 

heavy with gems, 
Our circlets of set scarabaei and chased diadems, 
Our beautiful linen enwrought with the blue lotus-flower, 
Our pearl-woven tassels and fringes, the silks of our 

dower, 
Graven signets of sapphire and amethyst, necklace of 

gold, 



THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 67 

Our exquisite girdles of wreathen-work, fair to behold, 
Pure olive-oil beaten for burning, and silver lamps hung 
With fillets of bells chiming sweetly, and jasper urns swung 
From curious settings of agate, thin vases perfumed 
With Egypt's rare odors, with topaz and diamonds 

illumed ; 
Quaint symbols and mysteries of lily-work, sculptured 

and done 
By the chiefest of Rameses' sculptors, the glory of On ; 
Chaste, delicate patterns of beauty in ivory made, 
Tall feathers of red-sheathed papyrus, the grain's golden 

braid, 
Nile-lily and lupine and flax-flower and fleece of the 

trees, 
Stork, pelican, ibis, their plumage up-tossed by the 
breeze, 



68 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

All loveliness run in the fine glass, shot through in 
bright hues 

Gold threads and lace meshes of silver; rare art to 
infuse ! 

The frescos of Karnak's grand temple, the spirals that 
twine 

Round the pillars of white alabaster encircling the shrine, 

Long colonnades wondrously fretted, feast-dishes that 
graced 

The table where thou, my beloved, in honor wert placed ; 

Rare dishes of porcelain colored and basins of bronze, 

Long towels of fine twined linen for Rameses' sons. 

Priceless gems from the land of our bondage, we count 
them as dust 

For the dwelling of Him whom we worship, whom un- 
seen we trust. 



THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 69 

Out of these, my son's son, Bezaleel, of God-given 

skill, 
Build the ark with its mercy-seat holy that Shiloh shall fill ! 
Mould cherubim hovering over, branched candles of gold, 
High altar and holy of holies with hangings enfold ; 
Raise pillars with chapiters glorious and doors of the 

shrine, 
Cloths of service and ephod and breastplate and girdle 

divine, 
Golden bells for the hem of the priest-robe, the mitre 

and plate, 
Plate of clear gold with " Holiness " graven for Aaron's 

high state. 
Forget not the skill of the graver on blue-chiselled steel, 
Nor the fashion of moulding and caning thou may'st 

not reveal, 



70 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

And the gods of the Nile thou shalt ravish of cunning 

and lore 
For the house of Jehovah-Redeemer, — the God we 

adore. 
Now to him do we bring all our offerings in gladness 

of soul, 
And we send up our song like an incense above them 

to roll ; 
With the music and dance will we praise him, and offer 

our gift — 
For he our transgressions will pardon, our weakness 

uplift — 
To the God of our Fathers enthroned on the clear 

sapphire height 
Where Moses with shining face saw him pass by in his 

might j 



THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 71 

Up the grand sacred terraces climbing, soar high, my 
song ! 

All winged with a passion of worship, and wafted along 

O'er the ladder celestial of Jacob, where angels as- 
cend 

And the seraphim chant him their paeans, yea, world 
without end ! 

We praise thee, O Elohim, 

Throned in the cloud ! 
Swift lightnings express thee, 

And thunderings loud ; 
Sweep, burst like a whirlwind 

From height unto height, 
Grand chorus of trumpets 

Proclaiming his might ! 



72 BREATH OF THE FIELD AXD SHORE. 

Unclothed are the mountains, 

And naked and hoar 
The ancient rocks tremble 

Thy presence before. 
In thick clouds and darkness 

Thy majesty hide, 
For the day of thy coming, 

Ah, who may abide ! 

O'er foot-scorching deserts 

Thy sun-arrows smite, 
Devouring fire, 

Thy glory and light ! 
Till in great rock-shadows 

The heat fades away, 
And the cool rest of eventide 

Endeth the day. 



THE BUILD TXG OF THE TABERNACLE. 73 

With shimmering lances 

O'er yon deepening sky- 
Night's serried host glances 

From camp-fields on high. 
Their star-banner riven 

Floats white o'er the plain, 
And the music of heaven 

Re-echoes our strain. 

Hark ! hark ! from the rock-cleft 

We hear thee proclaim, 
" Long-suffering, merciful ! " 

Gracious, new name ! 
O, gentle hand-cover ! 

O, soft touch of love ! 
O, heart like a mother, 

Our weakness above ! 



74 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Why feared we thy thunder, 

Why shrunk from thy light, 
Cloud-pillar before us, 

Flame-banner by night? 
Like Nubian lions 

The foam-billows reared, 
Curbed back from the path 

Where thy glory appeared. 

Thy flock like a shepherd 

Thou 'st tenderly led, 
In thirsty land nourished, 

In barren land fed. 
No longer thy glory 

Our spirits appall, 
But patience and tenderness 

Covcrcth all. 



THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 75 

Touch gently, maidens, 

The timbrel and lute ! 
Sing softly, sweet singers, 

Harsh cymbals, be mute ! 
But let the harp's yearning 

Breathe out on the air 
The sweetness of worship, 

The nearness of prayer ! 

Toss high, O ye palm-trees, 

Your emerald plumes ! 
Bright tamarisk blossoms, 

Waft wide your perfumes ! 
Wave, purple acacia, 

Your tassels abroad, 
And offer sweet incense 

To Israel's Lord ! 



76 BREATH OF THE FIELD AA T D SHORE. 



Ye zones of winds rushing, 



Ye streams of the sea, 



Ye desert-wells gushing 



Perennial and free, 
Ye fountains of waters 

And gathering rain, — 
Join all your glad voices 

To swell the refrain ! 



Ye grand rock-hewn temples, 

Shafts piercing the skies, 
Ye stairways of angels 

From Sinai that rise; 
Ye great congregation, 

Redeemed by his rod. — 
Awake the grand anthem 

To Israel's God ! 



PSHANSHA W. 77 



PSHANSHAW. 
AN INDIAN IDYL. 

I, 

THE MORXIXG PRAYER. 

Ameo the prairies of the wild Missouri 
Stretches the village of the Ricarees ; 

Bright flowers and grasses, beautiful pot-pourri, 
Wave gayly in the early morning breeze. 

The distant line of blue hills undulating 

Frames the fair picture like enamelled ring ; 

Bright-plumaged birds through rosy airs gyratim 
Above the flowery billows soar and sing. 



78 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Swiftly from out the picket's tall enclosure 

Runs little Pshanshaw, the Sweet-scented-grass ; 

Above her swings the amber-budding osier, 

The drooping boughs bend low for her to pass. 

Her flashing, jetty tresses loosely streaming 
O'er trailing robe of young white buffalo, 

Her shining necklace of the elk-teeth gleaming, 
Her beaded moccasins that come and go ; 

Her pretty slip embroidered with fair seeming 
Of blossom and of berry, fawn and doe, — 

All her glad vestal garments brightly beaming, 
A shaft of light upon the morning's glow; — 

A radiant form upon the waving prairie, 

Speeding toward the sunrise, sweet Pshanshaw ! 



PSHANSHA W. 79 

Hastening to greet day's glorious luminary, 
And worship at his feet in grateful awe. 

The fragrance of a wilderness of flowers, 
Sweet-scented grasses, purple clustering fruit, 

Are incense in that temple mid whose bowers 
Kneels little Pshanshaw with glad wonder mute. 

Then o'er the blue hills and the rushing river 

Bursts the new glory of the rising sun ; 
His clear light-arrows round her shine and quiver, 

And greet her with warm kisses, — happy one ! 

So home she speeds, blest with this morning praying, 

While all the songful voices of the air, 
And wandering breezes through her tresses straying, 

Sing to her heart in ceaseless praise and prayer. 



8o BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHGRE. 



II. 



THE BATH. 



The level shafts of light spread o'er the prairies, 
Great sunflowers turn to flash their high salute, 

Wild roses blush, and delicate dawn- fairies 

Breathe the fresh scent from myriad flowers and fruit. 

The blue-leafed boughs of buffalo-bush hang heavy, 
Their scarlet berries dewy with the prime ; 

The butterflies in many a dancing bevy 
Greet the tall crimson lilies in the thyme. 

Over the wide-expanded verdurous ocean 

Race the fleet deer, or crops the tender doe, 



PSHANSHAW. 8 1 

While o'er the distant hills in wild commotion 
Plunge the grand, shaggy herds of buffalo. 

Into the sunrise whirls the glancing river, 
And glitter all the jewels of the strand ; 

Agate and jasper, prisms all a-shiver 

With sparkling light on water and on land. 

Upon the cliffs, whose castellated border 
Shelters the beach, stand wary sentinels, 

Bow strung and arrow set for sly marauder 
Who dares to glance into the swimming dells. 

So over shining pebbles of red jasper 

Rounding with ebb and flow, the maidens run. 

Disrobed, from mother's arms that fondly clasp her, 

Flies Pshanshaw from Seetsebea, — Mid-day-sun. 
6 



I BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Then in the eddying current boldly dashing, 
Swims Pshanshaw gracefully from side to side, 

One tossing arm amid the spray out-flashing, 
One swinging low beneath the boiling tide. 

And through the surging billows strong and daring, 
Bounds the bright maiden like a fleet canoe ; 

Fresh as the fawn so innocently staring, 
Sweet as the balmy air and early dew. 



PSHANSHAW. 83 



III. 

THE BREAKFAST. 

Now from the terraced heights and shining beaches 
Hastens each happy mother, happy maid, 

Across the meadows' wide and blossomed reaches, 
Toward the homes within the palisade. 

Around the wigwam Pshanshaw steps so featly, 
Bringing the marrow- fat and pemmican, 

And tempting acid berries mixed discreetly, 
Gathered with dainty care as home they ran. 

Seetsebea stirs the succotash so steaming, 
In earthen bowl the golden corn-meal piles, 



84 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

The cup of crystal water sparkles gleaming, 

Dipped from the pool where the Great Spirit smiles. 

Then reverently the red-clay pipe she bringeth, 
Filled with the willow-bark and spicy musk; 

The gift of peace where'er its soft smoke wingeth 
The seeds of trust and friendship to the dusk. 

Mahtotohpa soon enters in his glory, 

Chief of the tribes, Pshanshaw's brave father too ; 
A gallant warrior in his war-paint gory, 

The terror of the hostile, fierce Sioux. 

His shirt of mountain-goat skin, white and flossy, 
Embroidered with the quills of porcupine, 

Adorned with tufts of black hair, long and glossy, 
With fringe of ermine tails and skins most fine ; 



PSHANSHA W. 85 

His leggings fringed with scalp-locks tossing quickly, 
And worked with quills of every richest dye, 

His moccasins of buckskin beaded thickly 
In flaunting grace about his ankles lie ; 

His glorious crest of white War-Eagle's pennons 
Tossing aloft or down his sinewy back, 

Streaming afar when dashing through the canons, — 
A deadly challenge on the red war-track ! 

While round his brawny chest the trophy-necklace 

Of fifty huge claws of the grizzly bear, 
Savage and sharp, a sign of contest reckless, 

In token of his name he '11 proudly wear ; 

His tall white bow as delicate as ivory, 
Carved with the cunning of wise Medicine, 



86 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

He carries haughtily, his forest livery, 

Scaring the wild-wood game and venison \ 

His quiver of the panther's skin ; his arrow 

Feathered with hawk-plumes and the eagle's quill, 

Its blade of chiselled flint, envenomed, narrow, 
To pierce the death-wound with unerring skill; 

His tall and two-edged lance with shaft elastic, 

Stained deep with blood drunk in by many a strife ; 

His painted robe of fine white doeskin plastic, 
His belt and tomahawk and scalping-knife ; — 

So full arrayed, Mahtotohpa has entered ; 

Seetsebea and Pshanshaw stand meekly still ; 
In him obedient love and pride is centred, 

His breakfast is prepared and waits his will. 



PSHANSHAW. 87 



IV. 
MAIDENHOOD. 

So through the seasons bloomed this Indian flower, 
In modest promise, Nature's happy child ; 

Untrammelled health and freedom was her dower, 
And o'er her pathway every morning smiled. 

She learned her maiden duties from her mother, — 
Swung the calm pappoose in its hammock gay, 

Beaded the moccasins for roving brother, 

Watched the wild scalp-dance in the morning gray 

Played with the prairie-dogs about their hutlets, 
Welcomed the braves returning from the chase, 



SS BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Prepared the buffalo-steak and venison cutlets, 
Or peered into the warrior's painted face ; 

Caressed the pretty little dappled ponies, 
Braided the grass-mats and the willow-withe, 

Paled at the war-whoop of the fierce Shoshones, 
Watched the ball-players, graceful, strong, and lithe ; 

Followed where late the wise old beaver lingers, 
Or trapped the muskrat in the sedgy green, 

Moulded the red clay in her dimpled fingers, 
Shot her canoe across the Lacque du Cygne : 

But when some savage mystery would haunt her, 
When the weird Medicine his chant began, 

Or torture with its stoic silence daunt her, 
Her thirsty soul to clearer fountains ran ; 



PSHANSHA W. I 

And sad, dim yearnings would her soul inspire 
For something purer than her faith had known, 

A holier shrine and truer altar-fire 
Before her young imagination shone. 

" O that I knew where I might find that Power, 
Higher than height and deeper than the deep ! " 

So burns her heart while night's dark shadows lower, 
So dreams she longing through her maiden sleep. 



90 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE EVENING STAR. 

Beautiful star that whisperest of the night, 
Her holy prophet with the calm white light 
Upon thy brow ! thou singest an evangel 
Which tells of welcome rest, thou twilight angel; 
Peace which the good God sends in holy dark enfolded, 
In raven wings the lily-calm is shrouded. 

Beautiful star ! thine is no idle mission, 

To say, " Lo, Night ! " then show us the pure vision, 

To hush the ruddy west that we may win 

A calm where God's fair angels enter in. 

Move gently on in constant prophesying 

Of peace, the foretaste of the heaven's undying. 



THE EVENING STAR. 91 

We look up fresh to God and only there. 

Night is all fraught with holiness and prayer. 

We feel more close the love of God, warm-pressing; 

The quiet wraps our souls in its caressing, 

Peace covers us with its white wings, and Even 

Lifts us up full into the calm of heaven. 



92 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



A TWILIGHT FANTASY. 

A low, round cedar bush 

Dark in the twilight hush, 
With wreath of nodding daisies round it spread ; 

Like stars just flickering 

The daisies wave and swing 
Like vestal lamps above a crowned head, — 

Above one crowned and dead. 

And through the silence deep, 
And through that cedared sleep, 
I hear the low waves washing to the shore ; 



A TWILIGHT FANTASY. 93 

A dirge, a moan they seem, — 
The voices of a dream, 
Resounding deep and sad forevermore, — 
A dirge from ocean's roar. 



94 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



DECEMBER. 

Blow, northern winds ! 
To brace my fibres, knit my cords, 
To gird my soul, to fire my words, 
To do my work, — for 't is the Lord's, ■ 

To fashion minds. 

Come, tonic blasts ! 
Arouse my courage, stir my thought, 
Give nerve and spring, that as I ought 
I give my strength to what is wrought, 

While duty lasts. 



DECEMBER. 95 

Glow, arctic light ! 
And let my heart, like burnished steel, 
That bright, magnetic flame reveal 
Which kindles purpose, faith, and zeal 

For truth and right. 

Shine, winter skies ! 
That when each brave day's work is done, 
I wait in peace, from sun to sun, 
To meet unshamed, through victory won, 

Your starry eyes. 



96 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



THE LESSON OF THE RAIN. 

The rain falls sadly on the icy panes, — 
Bereaved the dull day wanes ; 
The drops are past my counting, and the grief 
Seems past relief. 

Nay ! who knows what the losses or the gains 
Of sadly dropping rains? 

Who counts the tears I shed, or numbers o'er 
My blessings' store? 

I am too bold to call it sad or vain, 
Nor all my grief restrain. 



THE LESSON OF THE RAIN. 97 

The cloud may wear an aureola bright 
In upper light. 

And the swift beat of the unceasing rain 
May be the glad refrain 
Of singing harvests ; yea, the blooming earth 
May call it mirth. 

Poor words are these : the angels will explain ; 
True meanings shall remain 

Till we read " joy " for " mourning " ; and for " sad " 
Read "light" and "glad." 



98 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



CHRISTMAS WEEK. 

Like fair plateau lifted on snowy peak 

Is spread the Christmas week; 
Its towering plain slopes down on either side 

Into a valley wide ; 
The valley of the season-varied years 

From its high front appears 
Verdured in summer or a harvest-plain 

Teeming with golden grain. 
This crowning height on the sierra's breast 

Stretches its perfect rest, 
Wherein the carol of heaven-greeting bird 

By every heart is heard. 



CHRISTMAS WEEK. 99 

Glaciers may spread their winnowed whiteness round, 

Or avalanche resound, 
The torrent over awful chasms dash, 

Or giant boulders crash; 
But still so near the calm, eternal skies 

That peaceful plateau lies, 
No sound of terror and no icy sea 

Can mar its ecstasy. 
There quietly the trusting pilgrim waits 

Between its sacred gates, 
While o'er the outspread valley of the year 

God's love is shining clear. 



100 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE, 



THE CHRISTMAS SNOW. 

i. 

See what a pure, soft robe hath Nature spread 

About the living and above the dead, 

Wrapping us all within its ample folds ! 

And while I think of the dear dead it holds 

So close to me alive, I hardly know 

How not to greet them through the whispering snow, 

But feel the Christmas greetings passing there, 

Like snow-flakes floating in the peaceful air. 

2. 
We who, to-day, are thinking of our dead, 
How deep the snows are lying o'er their head, 



THE CHRISTMAS SNOW. 10 1 

How dimly we may dream them near, or see 
The meaning of their silent mystery, 
Too faintly still we whisper through our grief: 
i( Lord, I believe ; help thou my unbelief 1 " 
Too deaf our ears to their still yearning voice, — 
" As thou hast loved me, so wilt thou rejoice ! " 

3- 

Yes, we who keep the festival to-day 

With sadness that we cannot drive away, 

Let us be happy, too, and inly sing 

Like birds from empty nests but on the wing 

To fairer climes, who, as they sing and fly, 

Feel warmer breezes ever drawing nigh, 

See sunnier skies as swifter on they roam, 

And know that just before is peace, and rest, and home. 



102 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT. 

My daily round I tread 

On heights serene, 
And nightly lay my head 
On angel-guarded bed, 
By love o'er-canopied, 

Felt, though unseen. 

What matter how the task 

Employ my hands? 
God makes the work his mask, 
So in his smile I bask, 
And find that when I ask 

The promise stands. 



THE WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT 103 

I entered in the shade 

Shrinking, alone; 
" Let this cup pass/' I prayed ; 
When, lo ! Christ stood arrayed ; 
I could not be afraid, 

The darkness shone. 

When in the fire of pain 

I agonize, 
If neither spot nor stain 
Shall from its purge remain, 
I '11 covet it again 

For sacrifice. 

And when to watch and wait 
Befits my soul, 



104 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Some sweeter word than " Fate " 
Still keeps my heart elate ; 
Gladly I trust my state 
To his control. 

Poised and sustained I rest, 

Whate'er betide. 
By life's hard duties pressed, 
My weakness all confessed, 
Stayed on a Heavenly Guest, 

And satisfied. 



FOR GE T-ME-NO TS. 105 



FORGE T-ME-NO TS. 

A winning, waving meadow, with scarf of blue and 

green — 
'Twas the sedgy grass and water, with forget-me-nots 

between — 
We were wading over ankles, and the sun was shining 

hot, 
But we school-girls at West Newton loved the wild 

forget-me-not. 
Other meadows stretched alluring, where placid streams 

flowed through, 
And the gentian with its fringes, and the river flag 

gleamed blue, 



106 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

But the plashy, mocking mosses, with their clumps of 
starry eyes, 

The slender-stemmed forget-me-nots were more bewitch- 
ing prize. 

And when the July sun looks down on each successive 
year, 

And the happy green and blossoms, and the birds are 
settled here, 

I find within my memory a sunny summer spot, — 

Tis the old school at West Newton wreathed with 
wild forget-me-not. 

Retracing that bright picture, it is easy to begin 
With the fog-cloud in the morning that shut the village in. 
We were up in time to see it, ere it, lifting, thinned 
away, 



FOR GE T-ME-NO TS. I O 7 

For we rose to read our lessons in the violet bloom of 

day. 
Anon the school was opening, and the instant found us 

there — 
Still how fresh the inspiration from the choral hymn 

and prayer. 
Sowing seed by other waters, it has strengthened us and 

blest, 
When our hands were almost failing, and our hearts 

were sorely prest. 
Soon blackboards teem with mystic curve and cabalistic 

sign, 
And a gentle lady stands there, with a mind so crys- 
talline, 
She guides the swift brain-coursers, and from her magic 

hand 



108 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Runs thrilling to each eager steed the unseen electric 

band. 
And oft I have remembered, when my soul was dull 

and spent, 
How a queenly one looked up on us, — her color came 

and went, 
While her glowing words swept over us as healthful 

winds sweep by, 
And forever she enriched us with her dark and fervent 

eye. 
Enthusiasm — holy power ! best alchemist art thou, 
Kindled from soul to soul, and sped from radiant brow 

to brow, 
Changing to joy all duty, and on transfiguring heights 
Showing us all the shades of earth fair with celestial 

lights. 



FORGET-ME-NOTS. 1 09 

Not least in this clear vision I remember, if I may, 
Running cross the fields at twilight by a narrow, trodden 

way, — 
And she, at whose magnetic call, we every breadth could 

span, 
Shone like a rare crown-jewel in the home of Horace 

Mann. 

Education has its heroes ; they lay not their armor 

down 
Till they meet death in the combat, and receive the 

victor's crown. 
And the pioneer who, east and west, held firm th' 

advancing van, 
Was one of lordly heart and mien, — our own great 

Horace Mann. 



HO BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

At last the happy seasons of that rich school year were 

fled; 
They had lavished all their largess, and we gathered 

round our head. 
As a crescent of white lilies waits for some reviving 

dew, 
We, pale with parting, waited for his benediction true. 
And when, with our commissions in his hand, he stood 

and prayed, 
We felt like the Apostles, strong in God, in self afraid ; 
And an earnest, full assurance was given then and 

there, 
That God himself would answer that deep, availing 

prayer. 
So, young and full of courage, we looked the future 

through, 



FORGE T-ME-NO TS. 1 1 1 

And thought — There 's naught upon the earth we will 

not dare to do. 
All holy work is woman's work, unworthy she who scans 
Each feebly set partition that divides her work from 

man's. 

Ah, wreaths of blue forget-me-not ! bloom new and 

fresh alway, 
Immortalize in us the faith and spirit of that day ; 
And when, all met in Paradise, the long roll-call is 

made, 
Each with her work before the Lord, — we will not be 

afraid. 



112 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



POEM 

READ TO THE GRADUATING CLASS AND ALUMNI OF STATE 
NORMAL SCHOOL, JULY, 1 8 74. 

Across the gentle slope of low-walled fields 
Blows up the cool west-wind to fan my brow, 

And all the beauty that the landscape yields 
Is borne upon its wings to bless me now; 

The belting grove, the blue o'erarching sky, 

Teeming with life and joy or e'er the summer die. 

The circling swallow intersects the air 

With arc on arc, cleaving the passive blue, 

Or, swooping round the meadow, cuts his share 
The green, rock-islanded declension through, 






AL UMNI POEM. 1 1 3 

Then straight into the sky he steers his way, 
The music of his flight tuning the happy day. 

And myriad drowsy noises soothe mine ear : 

The locust rasping still his busy wing, 
The rustling corn or whirring loom more near, 

Or on the fir-tree spire a bird may sing, — 
Glad pulse in Nature's seething, tidal voice, — 
It knocks at my heart's door and bids my soul rejoice. 

So rides full high the summer of my life! 

Its heavy hum of work, its fields of bloom, 
Its odorous winds with hundred perfumes rife, 

Its many-voiced joy, its tempest gloom ; 
All various hues, commingling light and shade, 
The changing cloud and shine harmoniously inlaid. 



114 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

And while this noon of life hangs o'er my way, 
In press of duties, 'neath meridian sun, 

I pause to rest and would its ardor stay, — 

Look back to where — its labor scarce begun — 

The spring-time fair in hazy beauty rose, 

Recall its singing birds, its visions bright disclose. 

Like you I stood upon the threshold stone 
In earnest posture ; forward, eager gaze 

I cast where through the golden vista shone 
Alluring beauty, light of hope, whose rays 

Flush wide the path of life to youthful eyes, 

Its fields unfading green, unclouded blue its skies ! 

Others may speak of girlhood's careless joy, 

Its wayward moods, coquettish wiles and pranks, 



AL UMNI POEM. 1 1 5 

Its shallow fascinations for the toy 

Of soberer manhood's pastime ; little thanks 
They win who seek to deepen its intent, 
Enlarge its scope and aim, say true what girlhood meant. 

I know with you that in its playful mood 

There hides the longing to be true and pure ; 

A wish for consecration, womanhood 
Seems beautiful, good angels reassure 

The tender self- distrust, and by the door 

Of opening life they promise courage evermore. 

I know how fresh the air seems all about; 

Elastic, bounding pulse and buoyant heart 
And radiant eye all spectres put to rout, 

And laughing lips defy care's sober art ; 



n6 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

The cup of life is sparkling to the brim, 

Hope swells its foaming crest, jewels its silver rim. 

And when like you to-day I stood between, 

Hands either way outstretched, to wave good-by 

To youth's bright revels, and then forward lean 
To take the task God called me then to try, 

I heard his voice within my deepest soul, 

And glad I gave to him my work, my way, — the whole ! 

For all is his, — not part; your life's sweet spring, 
Through which his love has breathed in whisperings oft, 

The while his grace perfumed its blossoming 
And floated o'er it in a halo soft ; — 

How can you but breathe back the incense sweet, 

And all the joy of youth in song of praise repeat? 



ALUMNI POEM. 117 

Before you wait the truths you long to learn, 
Such glorious lessons in God's book to read ! — 

Or where the shining stars forever burn, 
Or where enticing Nature fain would lead, 

The secret treasures of her hoard to find, 

And quench the heaven-born thirst of the insatiate mind. 

Why in the heart of girlhood should there wait 
The keen desire to hear God's word of love 

Not only in responsive hearts, elate 

With dreams of bliss, but in his works, above, 

Below, around, where'er he speaks in tone 

Of concord, — law and germ and growth, — all, all his 
own? 

And while in beauteous order he evolves 

All phases fair, suggestions, germs, and roots 



n8 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



Of being, or all form resolves 

Into its deathless elements, the fruits 
Of circling power creative, — he feels still 
Your single, conscious life, and bids you do his will. 

He gives you these, his temples, you believe, — 
Fresh, healthful forms of beauty, soul-lit eyes, 

All avenues of knowledge to receive 

Hints of himself, to grow pure, good, and wise, 

To make your life his home, — keep integral 

This rhythmic, triune being, — body, mind, and soul. 

Now, as you stand just waiting on the verge 

Of holy womanhood, what fair ideal 
Shall from the future's shadow-land emerge, 

Inspiring vision you must make all real? 



AL UMNI POEM. 1 1 9 

With girlhood's prophet-eyes you see more clear 
Than ever spirit came to wizard or to seer. 

Perhaps the enraptured song of Dante stirs 

Your quick imagination, and you see 
His calm-browed, gold-haired Beatrice, — hers 

Such winning, gracious charms, the mystery 
Of Love divine enshrined in mortal guise, 
All loveliness looks out from her celestial eyes ! 

Or, if too lofty Beatrice stand 

In garment spotless on her radiant throne, 
You turn to one who offers you her hand 

In easier wisdom, but with grace her own, 
The classic Portia of transparent mind 
Gemming her clear, keen wit with mercy for her kind ! 



120 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

But there are names more honored and more dear, 

More vitally our own in history; 
Yearn we to follow in the noble sphere 

Of science, comprehending mystery, 
Interpreting the laws of vale and hill, 
Reading heaven's numbers right? lo ! Mary Somerville. 

Or should you hear God calling you by sign 
Of sympathy with lowly hearts in pain, 

To bear the cross with them and to resign 
All meed of social praise, all hope of gain, 

To walk the earth with cup of Holy Grail, — 

Tread in the sainted steps of Florence Nightingale. 

Yet chiefly, O, be true to self and God ! 
As you are gifted and as you are led, 



ALUMNI POEM. 121 

Unfold his gifts, follow his guiding word; 

So feed you others, so shall you be fed. 
The rosebud blooms a rose ; the lily's cup 
No other than its own pure fragrance offereth up. 



And we, my sisters, who have come to speak 
One word of cheer and greeting to each other, 

However brief that word, however weak, 

'Tis sweet to hear and tell our fostering mother, 

Who calls us with a voice of welcome now 

To hang our votive laurel on her honored brow. 

She lit within our hearts a deathless flame, — 
To love and seek the truth by every' path ; 

And now we come with paeans to her name, 
Perchance with harvest or with aftermath, 



122 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

To say how bright and how undimmed the ray 
Which beckons us still on to truth's millennial day. 

What stars have risen o'er our horizon-line ! 

What clear, full planet-truths above us swung ! 
Revealing Science swept the heavens divine 

And read their story with her silver tongue ; 
From dark to light their secret they unroll, 
God's bow is set in the cloud, a fair and open scroll ! 



See we so near across the sunny seas 

With gentle outline of white shining shore, 

Sad, consecrated isle of Penekese, 

Waiting the teacher who will come no more? 

The lapsing wave sings low its soft refrain, — 

"He who our secrets read, — he ne'er will come again ! " 



AL UMNI POEM. 1 2 3 

His life to Nature's inmost life so nigh, 
His all-absorbed, receptive, childlike heart, 

The ecstasy of rapture-kindled eye, 
Magnetic inspiration to impart, 

His reverent love, his calm, unuttered prayer, 

Each form and type of life his golden altar-stair ! 

O, noble pattern of the teacher, he ! 

From depth of soul and fervent zeal he taught. 
To hidden things a mirror he could be, 

To show what wondrous works the Master wrought. 
His eye of love saw nothing small or mean 
Where the least finger-print or thought of God had been. 

So stand the teacher high amid his time ! 
Directing thought, uplifting all the race, 



124 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Tracing the thread of histories sublime, 

Interpreting the signs of Nature's face ; 
From arts of school and rules of method free, 
By native force of soul true educator he ! 

His very presence breeds a noble trust; 

Within his sphere great-hearted love is born ; 
All broods of narrow strife, self-seeking lust, 

Disperse like mists before a sunny morn. 
The glory of a shrine his looks express, 
Life, light, and utterance his priesthood high confess ! 



PERSEPHONE. 



PERSEPHONE; OR, THE SPIRIT OF NATURE 
AND LIFE. 



PART I. 

Nature in sweet bewilderment 

From out her snowy vesture creeps : 
The gentle Spring forgetful sleeps, 

Lulled in her dream of deep content ; 

Dream that in rosy hopes will break, 
When dancing o'er the daisied lea, 
Shall step the bride Persephone, 

And all the earth to life awake. 



126 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Shy Nature kneels in trembling guise, 
Her pure brow white as driven snow, 
Her fleecy robes the south winds blow, 

Love's mystery lights her dewy eyes. 

She hears the ripple on the shore, 
The tuneful bluebird cleave the skies ; 
Her heart leaps up in glad surprise 

To know her hour has come once more. 



Swift-footed bride, Persephone, 

How blush the meadows at thy tread ! 

The oak unfurls his banners red, 
And swallows come across the sea. 



PERSEPHONE. 1 2 7 

The downy willow from her shroud 
Hangs out her tassels' yellow bloom, 
The nestling fern unrolls its plume, 

The modest woods are veiled in cloud. 

How gleams the golden oriole 

Out-glancing from her swinging nest, 
Her chirping brood beneath her breast, 

While songs of joy to Nature roll ! 

Ring every golden buttercup, — 

A bell of bridal festival ; 

Weave white the daisy coronal, 
And gather all the sweetness up. 



The chrysalid with rapture stirs ; 
The water-beetle feels more nigh 



128 BREATH OF THE FIELD AXD SHORE. 

His glory of the dragon-fly, 
And nectar fills the flower-spurs. 

Down in the confidential green 
Of clover-fields the insects hum, 
While myriad creatures pipe and drum, 

And live their busy life unseen. 

The flowers of the Indian corn 

Droop their fair feathers o'er the sheath, 
And all their pollen grains bequeath 

That golden harvests may be born. 



Ye chiding bees, I will not heed 
Your busy murmur ; summer's sky 



PERSEPHONE. 129 

Enchants me, though I know not why. 
On her ambrosia let me feed, 

And wander with Persephone, 

As walking in a happy sleep, 

Enraptured with the chorus deep 
Of Nature's ceaseless symphony. 

The night-moth dips his honeyed tongue 
In whispering blossoms of the dusk, 
And cereus wafts her subtle musk 

While nightshade bells are passion-rung; 

And meteors down the milky way 

Hurl their swift lances, till the night 

Is quivering in the silver light, 

The mystic dawning of the day. 
9 



130 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

In ravishment so full and true 

I fain would linger ; nay, but hark ! 
The carol of the meadow-lark 

Is palpitating through the blue. 



The sweet azalea scents the breeze, 
The barberry's warm and spicy breath, 
Its fragrant incense offereth 

On noon's high altar 'neath the trees. 

The laurel's rosy-plaited cup 
Clusters above its glossy leaves, 
Where Poesy her garland weaves, 

And Hebe holds the chalice up. 

Hush ! break no more the golden calm j 
Persephone in bliss shall dream, 



PERSEPHONE. 1 3 1 

The Naiads sleep upon the stream, 
While drowsy airs are thick with balm. 



The summer-tide swells high and fall; 

I sit within the waving grass; 

The scented breezes o'er me pass, 
The thistles shed their silky wool. 

The ox-eyed daisies hail the sun, 
And sprinkle all the acres bright 
With golden stars of radiant light 

Amid the feathery grasses dun. 

The plaintive brook reflects the glow 
Of rows of bleeding cardinal ; 



132 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 



The whippoorwill's sweet madrigal 



Breathes through the sunset soft and low. 



I see the dear Persephone 

Trailing her purple robes more slow, 
Her lovely eyelids drooping low, 

And gazing pensive o'er the sea. 

The fringed gentians kiss her hand, 
The milkweed waves its soft adieus ; 
Their tender words she must refuse, 

For dark steeds wait upon the strand. 



Ere while the sap has had its will, 
The bud has opened into leaf, 



PERSEPHONE. 1 33 

The grain is ripening for the sheaf, 
Demeter's arms have had their fill. 

The seed has dropped into the mould, 
The flower all its petals shed, 
The rattling stalks are dry and dead, 

Persephone is still and cold. 

Fair Nature's dream is all fulfilled, 

Her clinging robes she folds once more, 
And glides within her close-locked door, 

For all the wine of life is spilled. 

Come now, ye reapers, to the field, 
Tread in the wine-press' purple stain, 
And bind with joy the golden grain, 

The record of the year is sealed \ 



134 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

The harvest garnered ; yea, the chaff 
Blown wide upon the vagrant wind. 
The cup is drained, and naught behind 

Is ours again to spurn or quaff. 

Adieu, divine Persephone ! 

We wait another summer's joy, 

When the pomegranate's juice shall cloy, 

And Hades ope its gate for thee. 



part n. 

Bewildering miracle of life ! 

The brooding nest, the swelling bud, 
The rushing river at its flood, 

And Spring with all its promise rife. 



PERSEPHONE. 135 

Now Nature calls from star to clod 

All things to fruitful blossoming; 

The resurrection-soul of Spring 
Speaks out the vernal thought of God. 

For birth is holy as a shrine, 

And sacred is the hidden germ; 

The seed is sown when faith is firm, 
And Nature's vestal hour divine. 



The snowy lily lifts her face 
Upon the placid, waveless lake; 
Her pure white petals, flake on flake, 

Are peerless in their queenly grace. 

The rose in all his pride superb, 
Blush-tinted or in royal red, 



136 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Still holds aloft his crowned head, 
In empire none would dare disturb. 

But rose and lily I forego 

To watch the grass-blade's juicy shoot, 
The impulse of the swelling fruit, 

The spring of life I fain would know; 

How bud the microscopic cells, 
What subtle forces polarize 
To build the walls of plants and skies. 

And where essential power dwells. 



The cool of evening o'er the land 
Blew onward with its soothing rest, 



PERSEPHONE. 1 3 7 

And through its peace a presence pressed, 
Methought a child might understand. 

The gorgeous blossoms of the noon, 
The lavish wealth of leaf and flower, 
Were hid in that revealing hour, 

Which brought the spirit's precious boon. 

The seed, the bloom, the germ, the cell, 

The protoplasm's mystery, 

Evolve their various history, 
And one creative presence tell; 

That Presence in the garden's shade 

Then talked with me as friend with friend; 



138 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

Sweet converse that shall never end, 
And love that maketh not afraid. 



The simmering seasons leave me this : 
Desire to know and understand 
The thought that bids all life expand, 

And blossom in eternal bliss. 

If haply I that hand may clasp 
Which touches with electric thrill 
Material force or spirit- will, — 

All things within its loving grasp, — 

And work its purpose evermore 

Through endless summers of delight, 



PERSEPHONE. 1 39 

Growing and blooming in his sight, 
And learning his celestial lore. 



Love-hungering and thirsting soul ! 

Persephone shall give to thee 

Her beauty for eternity, 
And wing thee for immortal goal. 

She decks the glorious walks of heaven 
With rose-suns lighting all its noons, 
With planet-lilies, argent moons, 

Blooming in more than colors seven. 

While all about that garden fair 

The starry buds and blossoms shine 



140 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

With grace and fragrance so divine 
As nourished in celestial air. 

Thereon the soul, with vision new, 
Gazes and wonders more and more : 
Bright sea of light without a shore, 

The spotless robe of heavenly blue. 



From birth to death, from death to birth : 
So sing the swift recurring years. 
The chant rolls on in other spheres, 

" Behold, I make new heavens and earth ! ' 

New senses, new rewards of sense, 

The spectrum filled, all dark lines bright. 



PERSEPHONE. 1 4 I 

Released from this close-fettered sight, 
We see life's fuller evidence. 

And music unimagined here 

Shall break in wave on wave of sound, 
No grand chords silent, and no bound 

To limit the enfranchised ear. 

Fresh miracle and fresh desire, 
And nature's still enlarging scope, 
A deeper faith, a broader hope, 

A steadier purpose to aspire ; 

New inspiration rounding life, 
And speeding it upon its way 



142 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

To those great cycles, where the day 
Is without shadow, without strife. 



Whene'er I dream of poet-seer, 

And stand with him on highest height, 
We hail no planet's splendid light, 

Nor gaze on star without a peer; 

But on to farthest nebulae 

We point the searching telescope ; 
Imagination winged with hope 

May revel in that mystery. 

Then thought may pass the bounds of space, 
And wonder swell to worship meet, 



PERSEPHONE. 143 

Till in a trance sublime and sweet, 
We sing from out our heavenly place, 

The hymn of forming elements, 

Of lighted suns in orbits grand, 

Resolving chaos and the strand 
That separates the firmaments; 

Of forces striking through the void, 

The anthem of God's " Let there be ! " 
When mists shall sink to surging sea, 

And star-dust pulsate to spheroid. 



So through all things the breath of life 
Is breathed from God, the increate, 



144 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 

The one essential germ of fate, 
To push its way through bounds and strife ; 

To hold its course by converse strain, 
To keep unswerved its orbit grand, 
Still circling on as he had planned, 

Resolvent of life's joy and pain. 

Perhaps, God grant ! the dreaded sin, 
Like backward stroke of wing or oar, 
Shall urge us on till, more and more, 

We see the good that we must win, 

And faster sail the billowy sea, 
Or swifter wing the buoyant air, 
For wind or wave that crossed us there, 

Than any tide that swung us free j 



PERSEPHONE. 145 

Till, looking back through vista far, 
We see our course as 't was to be : 
True in the vast eternity 

As radiant track of circling star. 



Cambridge : Printed by John AVilson & Son. 



By the Sa7ne Author. 

MOTHERHOOD: 

a Poem. 

Square i6mo. Cloth. Gilt edges. Price $1.50. 



NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 

" Mrs. Hopkins's verses entitled 'Motherhood' sweep the whole scale of that 
loving office and holy ministry with the true touch. In form and expression they 
are unsurpassed ; particularly, it seems to me, the earlier ones, which deal with 
deep and sacred mysteries. I wish every woman and man also capable of receiv- 
ing them, could read these revelations and be lifted into their atmosphere." — 
Ge7ieral Joshua L, . Chamberlain, President of Bowdoiii College, Maine- 

" In this book a woman, rarely gifted by nature and training, attempts to utter 
in words what Francia and Raphael put on canvas. 'The Travail,' its cul- 
minating poem, is of almost Miltonic strength and dignity, so pure, so sublimely 
heroic, and so infinitely touching that .1 shrink even from quoting it. Nothing 
can be more free from cant than is the religious sentiment in this little volume." — 
Colonel T. W. Higginson in Wo7naris Journal. 

" The author of these tender, love- fraught poems has won a universal recog- 
nition from the critics of the country as a true poet." — Chicago Alliajice. 

Alice Wellington Rollins says, " Its ' lyrical cry ' is one that will speak not only 
to mothers but to many who will recognize with literary appreciation the charm of 
rare and exquisite feeling adequately expressed ; it is impossible not to be personally 
stirred by its vigorous and daring lines." 

Rev. W. C. Gannett in " Unity" says, "Only a mother and only a poet could 
have written it. Perhaps only an American mother would have had the boldness 
and the delicacy to do this most womanly and beautiful act of faith." 

" The book is one of the prettiest, most readable, and beautiful gems of poetry 
that have ever fallen into our hands." — Detroit Advertiser. 

"The elevated thought, chosen diction, simplicity and chasteness of expression, 
fully carry out the author's intention to portray, in its purity and holiness, the most 
beautiful instinct of humanity." — National Intelligencer, Washington. 

" In the presence of its graceful words and of its delicate translation of experi- 
ences, the mind and heart are purified." — Syracuse Journal. 

" The poems are simple, fresh, and sweet, full of tender reverence, and with 
touches of playfulness and fancy." — Ednah D. Cheney in Religious Index. 



"The subject as thus conceived is a daring one, never before attempted, to our 
knowledge. There can be no question, however, with regard to the delicacy and 
tenderness with which the sacred joys of motherhood are here invested, nor of the 
genuine poetry which shines out from the greater portion of the volume. Its real- 
ism is transfigured, and shines with the glory of ideality." — Boston Traveller. 

" Extreme delicacy, natural tact, and touching pathos mark each stroke of this 
self-uttering artist's work, this autobiographic genesis of being." — The Word. 

" It touches the best in all natures, is expressed in verse of unusual merit and 
force, and yields a satisfaction that is as the peace of communion with Deity." — 
Commonwealth. 

" The poem is sweet and strong ; it exalts what some in this day are in danger 
of forgetting, the dignity of true motherhood." — Christian Weekly. 

"This brave mother tears away the veil which prudery has drawn before these 
holy emotions and lets the light of heaven in upon them. This little volume has 
a mission to perform, and we bespeak for it a hearty welcome and a candid hear- 
ing. ' ' — New Haven Palladium. 

"The author sounds the depth of mother-love, and the beautiful little book is 
a series of expressive pictures." — Inter-Ocean. 

" The verses show a nicety of finish and a thoughtfulness of words and mean- 
ing which make them far more valuable on a second reading."— Pittsfield Journal. 

" Birth, Death, and Life she sings with a fervor that tells her own motherhood, 
and with a power that the mere versifier never attains.". — New London 
Telegram. 

"It reflects equal honor upon the head and heart that conceived it. Every 
mother should have it for her own comfort." —N. Summerbell. 

" Well would it be for the children if the earliest hope should awaken in the 
mother's mind the sacred, reverent joy which finds expression here." — Christian 
Union. 

" Now that a mother has done this, the wonder is that it has not been done 
before, to do it seems so natural a thing. The sentiment of these poems is all 
that could be desired ; nothing could be purer and sweeter, more reverent and 
holy." — Christian Register. 

" Excellent verse that never falls below the dignity of the theme." — Methodist. 

" It is a beautiful poem, breathing all the buoyancy and enthusiasm of a 
mother's hope with all the pathos of Rachel's sorrow. " — Spectator, St. Louis. 

" Evidently the production of a poet in fact as well as in name- It is alive 
with thought and feeling. It is distinguished throughout by delicacy of concep- 
tion and elegance of literary finish. Every mother will appreciate its exquisite 
lines. The conception of the work is original, and it must achieve popularity." — 
Keystone, Philadelphia. 



" These are verses which bar criticism because their sentiment carries them 
into a sphere beyond it. Nor has the author lacked ability to embody her 
thought in a rhythm well adapted to it, so that the poem fulfils all the conditions 
required in whatever light it may be viewed." — Philadelphia Press. 

"An exquisite poem or series of poems which embody every feeling and 
aspiration of the mother ; refined and beautiful verse, as light and pure as the soul 
of the child of which it sings." — Demorest? s Monthly. 

" The devout and cultivated mother will especially appreciate it ; all readers of 
fine susceptibilities will admire it." — Portland Argus. 

" A remarkable product, treating a most delicate matter with the purity of the 
immaculate conception, the boldness of innocence, and the fulness of experience. 
The verse is melodious, the feeling vivid and strong, and the poem cannot fail to 
win the approval of lovers of excellent poetry. " — Newburyport Herald. 

"The theme is as old as humanity, yet ever new in its manifestations, and 
never was it disclosed with more delicate grace and tenderness." — New York 
Star. 

" A book that every true mother will love to read, as giving the best thoughts 
of her life. Some of its stanzas rise to a poetic height that is rare." — Concord 
Blade. 

" The woman who wrote it has rendered a great service to other women, and 
has done much to redeem the sweetest and purest of human instincts from the 
slough of vulgarity." — Providence Journal. 

" Some exquisite verse on one of the most sacred and beautiful of subjects." — 
Syracuse Standard. 

"The charm of the poem is not so much in its music and choice diction as in 
the high and intensely sacred spirit that breathes through it." — Chicago 
A dvayice. 

" She has succeeded, in most beautiful and charming rhythm, in giving a 
portraiture that every mother's heart will responsively accept." — State Capital, 
Columbus. 

" The poetry is pure and indicates true poetic genius as well as a vivid appre- 
ciation of the indescribable pathos and tenderness of love that sway a mother's 
heart." — Christian at Work. 

" The exceedingly beautiful dress with which this poem is adorned is richly 
deserved. With our whole heart we commend the poem to every mother, young 
or old. It is a gem of the purest water. When ouce read how lovingly and 
tenderly will it be treasured as the grandest and most beautiful expression of the 
very sentiments which all have felt without the ability to put them in tangible 
form." — Home Journal. 

" The poetic fancy takes an unusual flight in this volume. The treatment is 
delicate in the extreme, and the versification of unusual merit. The closing 
poems are bright and graceful as well as beautiful." — Providence Journal. 



" The lesson woven so tenderly in verse is one of sweetness, solemnity, and 
purity." — Manchester Mirror. 

"The effusions appeal to and tenderly exalt the love of a mother for her child ; 
no parent can read them without a thrill of thankfulness." — Cleveland Sun. 

" In strong and yet very harmonious lines she has chastely but daringly sung 
the thoughts and sentiments of motherhood. It is a remarkable poem, and many 
a young mother will find a happy expression of thoughts hitherto unuttered, in 
this beautiful little volume." — Zion's Herald. 

" In ' Motherhood ' we strike true poetry. To come upon such a work is like 
finding the grain of gold after the washing of much sand. Here we have a pro- 
found poetic sentiment colored with deep and genuine experience. Its delicacy 
and tenderness are great. Only a mother could have written this holy song, and 
no mother-heart can fail to respond to it ; it is a spiritual beauty." — Literary 
World. 



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